of a werewolf. I meant to be a little rough with the kiss, though I’d never intended the kiss to be that aggressive. But then I put my hands on her, and my response was almost violent. I went at her like a fucking starving dog.
Which would have been fine if she’d pushed me away, scraped at me, or even slapped me, because I definitely was asking for that. But she responded. She responded like
she was made for me.
What I did is beyond heinous.
All I wanted was to take her in my arms, lay her on the bed, and just be with another human being, and for that reason, more than any other, I was cruel. Cruel even by my standards, and I didn’t even realize I had those anymore. A part of me is racked with guilt. The other knows that it’s better for her to find out now that I’m a monster.
But something else has been bothering me since last night.
In those first moments after I pulled back, deliberately degrading her, she was shocked and angry, as she was supposed to be. But in the moments that followed, there was something else that pissed me off: resignation. In a matter of seconds, the angry, betrayed light went out of her eyes, and she just stood there, accepting what I’d just done
as though it were her due.
I may not know Olivia Middleton well—okay, I don’t know her
at all
—but I do know that she deserves more than what she got from me last night.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and I hate that my head shoots up in expectation and my heart seems to beat just a little bit faster.
Then I remember: Olivia doesn’t knock. It’s Lindy.
“You look tired,” Lindy murmurs as she sets the tray with my lunch on my desk.
“Yeah.” I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Rough night.”
She nods. “Same with Olivia. She was up early, but I sent her right back to bed. Girl looked like she hadn’t slept a wink.”
I catch myself before I can beg for more detail. Did she tell Lindy what happened? I scan the housekeeper’s familiar features carefully, looking for any clue, but Lindy’s calm and expressionless, as always. I like that about her. She’s one of the few people who’ve figured out how to be there for me without acting like a goddamned battering ram.
Are you listening, Dad?
And all you doctors and shrinks with your bullshit about how PTSD can be cured?
But just for the briefest second, I wish she’d ask. I wish someone would ask what happened. How I am. Something other than the vapid
Need anything?
Hell yes, I need something. I need someone to
care
.
“You’re not drinking today,” Lindy says, eying my coffee mug.
I raise my eyebrows as if to say,
And?
She shrugs in response. “I asked your father for a weekend off. It won’t be for a couple of weeks yet, but I’m giving you a heads-up now.”
“Fine,” I mutter, relieved that she dropped the topic of my drinking. I’ve been telling myself all morning I’m laying off the whiskey because of my headache. Not because a certain green-eyed girl has made me all too aware that I might be using alcohol for all the wrong reasons.
“Mick is taking some time off too,” Lindy says, heading toward the door. “We’re headed to Portland for a little getaway. Your father offered to get us a hotel. Thought we’d go to the movies. Have someone cook for me for a change.”
Wait, what? My father is giving his employees free vacations now? And the two of them are taking it together? I try to think back to the times I’ve seen Mick and Lindy together. Not often, but then I make a point of ignoring everyone as often as possible. Are they…you know? Good for them if they are. At least someone should be getting some.
“Cool,” I say.
Lindy purses her lips. “You’ll be fine. For food and stuff. I mean, it won’t be
my
cooking, but…”
Technically she’s talking to me, but I know from her tone she’s trying to reassure herself that she’s not abandoning me.
I give her a look. “Do you have any idea what they feed soldiers in
Which would have been fine if she’d pushed me away, scraped at me, or even slapped me, because I definitely was asking for that. But she responded. She responded like
she was made for me.
What I did is beyond heinous.
All I wanted was to take her in my arms, lay her on the bed, and just be with another human being, and for that reason, more than any other, I was cruel. Cruel even by my standards, and I didn’t even realize I had those anymore. A part of me is racked with guilt. The other knows that it’s better for her to find out now that I’m a monster.
But something else has been bothering me since last night.
In those first moments after I pulled back, deliberately degrading her, she was shocked and angry, as she was supposed to be. But in the moments that followed, there was something else that pissed me off: resignation. In a matter of seconds, the angry, betrayed light went out of her eyes, and she just stood there, accepting what I’d just done
as though it were her due.
I may not know Olivia Middleton well—okay, I don’t know her
at all
—but I do know that she deserves more than what she got from me last night.
There’s a soft knock at the door, and I hate that my head shoots up in expectation and my heart seems to beat just a little bit faster.
Then I remember: Olivia doesn’t knock. It’s Lindy.
“You look tired,” Lindy murmurs as she sets the tray with my lunch on my desk.
“Yeah.” I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Rough night.”
She nods. “Same with Olivia. She was up early, but I sent her right back to bed. Girl looked like she hadn’t slept a wink.”
I catch myself before I can beg for more detail. Did she tell Lindy what happened? I scan the housekeeper’s familiar features carefully, looking for any clue, but Lindy’s calm and expressionless, as always. I like that about her. She’s one of the few people who’ve figured out how to be there for me without acting like a goddamned battering ram.
Are you listening, Dad?
And all you doctors and shrinks with your bullshit about how PTSD can be cured?
But just for the briefest second, I wish she’d ask. I wish someone would ask what happened. How I am. Something other than the vapid
Need anything?
Hell yes, I need something. I need someone to
care
.
“You’re not drinking today,” Lindy says, eying my coffee mug.
I raise my eyebrows as if to say,
And?
She shrugs in response. “I asked your father for a weekend off. It won’t be for a couple of weeks yet, but I’m giving you a heads-up now.”
“Fine,” I mutter, relieved that she dropped the topic of my drinking. I’ve been telling myself all morning I’m laying off the whiskey because of my headache. Not because a certain green-eyed girl has made me all too aware that I might be using alcohol for all the wrong reasons.
“Mick is taking some time off too,” Lindy says, heading toward the door. “We’re headed to Portland for a little getaway. Your father offered to get us a hotel. Thought we’d go to the movies. Have someone cook for me for a change.”
Wait, what? My father is giving his employees free vacations now? And the two of them are taking it together? I try to think back to the times I’ve seen Mick and Lindy together. Not often, but then I make a point of ignoring everyone as often as possible. Are they…you know? Good for them if they are. At least someone should be getting some.
“Cool,” I say.
Lindy purses her lips. “You’ll be fine. For food and stuff. I mean, it won’t be
my
cooking, but…”
Technically she’s talking to me, but I know from her tone she’s trying to reassure herself that she’s not abandoning me.
I give her a look. “Do you have any idea what they feed soldiers in
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